Work Text:
Christmas, Don't Be Late
by MJ
"Christmas, Christmas time is near
Time for toys and time for cheer
We've been good, but we can't last
Hurry Christmas, hurry fast
Want a plane that loops the loop
Me, I want a hula hoop
We can hardly stand the wait
Please Christmas, don't be late."
-- The Chipmunk Song
Denny Crane leaned against the balcony rail, overcoat buttoned, Scotch in hand. He found himself unable to look into Alan Shore's eyes. There were some few things it was difficult to share with Alan, even if he was not only Denny's best friend, his closest confidant, the man he loved, even if he was Denny's husband of the past two weeks, even if he was Denny's…
It was new to think that word, since Denny was a man who had always believed that if you didn't talk about some things, they simply didn't exist. And in Denny's case, that… thing… you didn't talk about… had simply not existed since he'd been in the Marines. He and Alan had… more than once… but they'd never talked about it, and that meant they were heterosexual – well, Denny was; Alan had tacitly acknowledged being bisexual a few years back, but they didn't discuss… well, that. Now that they were married, however… all right, Alan was Denny's lover. And despite the joke Denny had made during his first proposal, the sex was decidedly not lousy. It never had been, not with Alan.
Still, he had something difficult to tell Alan, but he had to break it to him somehow.
"We need to talk." He said it to the wind blowing along the terrace.
"Yes?" As always, Alan's reply was bland, non-committal, soothing. The younger attorney joined Denny at the rail, one hand on his own glass of single malt, the other on one of Denny's fine Cuban robustos. Some things had not changed one iota since the wedding, and this ritual, the intimate conversation on Denny's twenty-fifth floor balcony, drinks and cigars in hand, was one of them.
"We haven't discussed much… what's happening next. I mean, you, me, Shirley and Carl, Jerry and Katie… I know you want to start your own firm, Alan. It's time you did. And it's time your name was on the door." Denny stopped to inhale his cigar, but was clearly still in the midst of a pontification; Alan did not interrupt. "Face it, Alan. Carl knows it; even Paul admits it, much as it hurts him. You're me, Alan. You're what I was twenty years ago – the man who rules litigation practice in this city, and everyone hates you for it, just like they still hate me for it. I knew you could do that when I hired you. It was why I hired you. I don't care how many good deeds you want to do, how many cases you want to take for free to help all the poor people. They'll still hate you out there – more so for marrying me."
"I'm not sorry about that, Denny. Not in the least."
"Don't be. Just hear me out." Denny was slightly more relaxed now; being able to ramble and warm up his discussions always did that to him. "We certainly moved fast enough about getting married. I should have bought you a wedding present, but I didn't have the chance."
"Good Lord, Denny," Alan laughed. "Surely you don't think I care about things like that."
"Perhaps I care." Denny returned to his Scotch for a moment, as did Alan. "I was out today. You probably noticed."
"I did. You were out yesterday, too, and the day before."
"I was." He turned to face Alan. "I was taking care of your wedding present. I didn't know what else to get you, so I settled on real estate. I find that always works."
Alan raised an eyebrow. "Real estate? Residential or commercial?"
"Commercial," Denny stated firmly. "Nice building. Has income from rentals coming in – all your own money. I was thinking, if you want to start a firm, we need office space. You might as well own the building; it seems a bit… unfortunate… to make a legal aid firm have to pay rent when it could get some income."
"That's a good point. So you've bought us a building for the office. One that is obviously larger than the office itself will be, if it has rentals producing income."
"Thirty-five floors," Denny crowed. "Lots of rentals. Shops and restaurants on the first floor, and offices everywhere else."
"Good God, Denny, that's as large as this building. We don't need anything nearly that size." Alan shook his head. "Oh, right. Rental income."
"Plenty of room for the firm to grow, too," Denny added. "Besides, it had something even more important than the room for the firm, or the rental, or the prime location."
"Oh? What?"
Denny held his hand out to Alan. "It has a balcony. Right where I want my office to be. Make that our office. You don't think we're going to run a firm without a balcony for us to call our own?"
Alan took Denny's hand. "I never realized you were that much of a sentimentalist, Denny." He sighed. "God, I do love you. And you know, you really shouldn't have."
"Oh, yes, I should have," Denny laughed. "Because the new landlords can evict Chang, Poole and Schmidt. You think I want to clear out my desk and my office after all these years?"
"You bought us THIS building?"
"Of course. Where else? This is our balcony, Alan. Ours. How many times have we danced here?"
Alan smiled. "Dozens."
"How many times have we been sitting here and you told me you loved me?"
"I can't count them. You've done the same thing, too."
"Damn right. And you were sitting right over there," Denny nodded towards Alan's chair, "when you said you'd marry me. No Chinese investment company is taking this balcony away from us. The building's for the firm, Alan, but this balcony is ours."
"Thank you, Denny."
"I take it you like your present."
"It's the best one I've ever gotten, except you."
"Good. Because I was so busy doing this, I forgot to buy you a Christmas present."
"Forget the Christmas present, Denny. Just fly me to the moon." Alan slid his arm around his husband.
"Gulfstreams can't do that," Denny grumbled. Then he looked at Alan's face.
"You don't need a plane for that, Denny. Just yourself. And maybe the balcony."
Denny had almost forgotten that being kissed just like Alan was kissing him at that moment was one of the things he'd always liked best about being married.
end